


John get’s kidnapped

by SuperWhoLockian_96



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Permanent scars, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, emotional torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-06-07 06:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15213497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoLockian_96/pseuds/SuperWhoLockian_96
Summary: After Sherlock’s faked death, John is unaware that Sherlock is really alive, until Moriarty comes back from the dead and kidnaps John to try and stop Sherlock from tearing down his network and web any further. To get Sherlock’s attention Moriarty tortures John and sends him a video.





	1. Wakey-Wakey

**Author's Note:**

> This story is explicit, includes torture, rape and other stuff.

John whimpered a little as he opened his eyes, the bright light assaulting his vision and he instantly closed his eyes again. John tried to take a deep breath, not realizing how much pain he was in until he had done that. John tried to remember why he was in so much pain, but there was heavy fog around his thoughts. All of a sudden there is an annoyingly sing-song voice filtered through his spinning thoughts, “Goood Morning Doctor Watson.”

Moriarty. Now he remembered, Moriarty’s minion had grabbed him when he entered his flat after a long shift at the clinic. John had done his best to fight, fought as hard as he could until Moriarty and stabbed a needle into his neck, instinctively he went grab at his neck but he couldn’t move. 

After a slow shallow breath, he slowly opened his eyes, the light was less blinding this time, and when he looked down at himself he could see he was chained into a chair, there was a drain beneath him but the floor was concrete, as he looked around the room he saw it was completely concrete, it didn’t even look like it had a door if it weren’t for the fact that there was a keypad right next to it, making him see the slight crack in the concrete that was obviously the door. As his eyes traveled up he saw the small camera and speaker in the corner of the room, he glared at the camera but stayed quiet, not interested in giving Moriarty the satisfaction. Moriarty’s voice came through the speaker, “Oh come now John, don’t be like that. Listen now I need to go do a few things but Sebby is going to come in and play with you while I am gone. Be a good boy for Daddy.”

John growled and tried to lunge out of the chair but he was to tightly chained to do anything but hurt his wrists and shoulder. About a minute later Sebastian Moran came in with a trolley of weapons, the mans face was completely impassive as if he looked completely indifferent to this situation. Moran locks the wheels on the cart, then he turns to John and his indifference turns to pleasure and he picks up the brass knuckles, smiles darkly and asks harshly, “Where is Sherlock Holmes?”

John frowns, everyone knows Sherlock is dead, it was news all over England, John replies as if talking to someone who is stupid, “Sherlock Holmes is dead.”

Moran sighed tiredly, then suddenly hits John square in the jaw with the brass knuckles, knocking one of his teeth loose and making blood fill his mouth. John grunts in pain and closes his eyes, forcing himself to breathe through the pain. John hears the slight clatter of the brass knuckles against the metal trolley, and when he opens his eyes, Moran is picking up a scalpel, and offhandedly speaks as he takes cap off the scalpel, “Jim really hates when people lie Doctor Watson, so where is Sherlock Holmes?”

John clenched his teeth, ignoring the sharp pain it caused in his jaw, using it to fuel his annoyance, and he rose his voice, “Sherlock jumped off the damn rooftop of St. Barts! He is buried 6 feet beneath the dirt! He has been dead for a whole bloody year!”

Moran sighs again, before using the scalpel to carefully cut open John’s shirt, and then using the scalpel to cut a long but shallow cut down his chest. John clenched his teeth again, and refused to give him the pleasure. Moran raised his eyebrow, almost looking like he was actually curious about the fact that John was fighting the pain. Then a few seconds later he sliced down John’s chest again, this time a bit deeper and beads of red welling up in the wake of the scalpel. John was barely able to stop himself from wincing. John gritted out through clenched teeth, “Fuck off”

Moran smirked a little and tilted his head interested, “Well he was right about you, I know better then to doubt Moriarty but your just so non-threatening I couldn’t help but doubt him. In that case though I think I should get a little more exoctic with these tactics. For now though, I need you to sleep while I move you.”

John tried to fight against the chains even though he couldn’t move, as Moran grabbed a needle full of something and stuck it in his neck. It was some sort of sedative, John could tell because the heaviness that quickly flooded his senses and made his vision go dark.

The next time John wakes up his wrists are shackled to the ceiling and he has been stripped of all of his clothing save his boxers. John shivers involuntarily against the damp coldness in the room, then fights the cry that nearly comes out of his throat because of the pain shivering caused. Most of the pain is in his bad shoulder simply because of the way his wrists were shackled above him. John took a cursory glance around the room trying to figure if there was a way to escape, the trolley was still sitting by the door but it was completely out of reach. Even if he could hold himself up enough and managed to kick out he wouldn’t be able to reach it, he was to short, that made him think of Sherlock, if it was Sherlock the man would be able to reach it. John quickly shakes the thought of the man out of his head then looks around the room again. There is no window in the room, and the fluorescent light is annoying to his eyes, there was no way to tell how much time had passed since he was knocked out again. As John looked around again he saw a few exposed pipes, one of them having a slight leak to it and with the silence of the room it was hard to ignore the constant dripping. 

Suddenly the concrete door opened with a bit of a squeal and there stood James Moriarty, with Moran standing behind him to his right. Moriarty smiled and gave him a little wave, “Hii”

John closed his eyes, it reminded him of the time at the pool, that annoying sing-songy voice. John resisted the desperate urge to lunge at the man, knowing that it wouldn’t do him any good and probably only hurt him more. Then he took in a deep breath, it hurt pretty bad, between pulling on the cuts and his bruised or broken ribs but he knew if he didn’t force himself to breathe right he could get an infection, although he wasn’t sure he would be living long enough. John stayed silent and watched Moriarty as he stepped into the room and pretended to pout at John’s lack of conversation. “Come on Johnny don’t be boooring.”

John ignored Moriarty and chose to look at the pipe that was still leaking water, or at least thats what it looked like he was looking at. In reality he was watching Moriarty, who gave a slight nod to Moran. Moran stepped into the room past Moriarty and suddenly punched John hard in the stomach, knocking his breath out of him and causing him to jerk in pain. John struggled to catch his breath, regardless he gritted out, “Fuck you.”

Moriarty rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly before carefully stepping closer to John, grabbing John’s chin and tilting his head up so John could meet his eyes, “Less boring, but still sooo booorrinng. Noww I know Sebby here was asking you about our dear friend Sherlock-“

“Sherlock is dead!!” John interrupted with actual anger and frustration this time. John was getting tired of getting asked about Sherlock when Sherlock was dead. Truthfully he was using his anger to cover up his hope, because if Moriarty had him and wanted Sherlock, it made him hope that Sherlock really wasn’t dead and right now he couldn’t think about that.

Moriarty looked slightly annoyed at being interrupted but then smiled and chuckled, “So was I John. Or at least Sherly thought I was. Sherlock is not dead John, he faked his death like I did, and is now taking out my network. It was actually kind of clever, terribly annoying but still clever.”

John’s heart stuttered in his chest, hearing that Sherlock was alive brought so many feelings again and he couldn’t let himself do that, not right now. John shook his head and looked away, reminding himself that Sherlock was dead. He had watched him, his best friend, and the man he had stupidly fallen in love with jump off the rooftop of St. Barts, he had taken his pulse, and there had been none. Moriarty was just trying to mess with him, using this as some sort of tactic to break him. John closed his eyes and decided to ignore Moriarty completely.

With his eyes closed he couldn’t see Moran moving and getting ready to punch him again, the blow to his stomach was harder than the last one and he struggled to breathe but he still ignored Moriarty and Moran. Moriarty nodded again to Moran who landed an even harsher blow to his ribs, this time John’s whole body jerked in pain and he cried out. When John’s eyes opened again he saw Moriarty still standing there with his arms crossed and looking at him impatiently. “Come now pet, ignoring Daddy isn’t very nice of you,”

Bile rose in John’s throat, but he swallowed it. John thought about spitting in Moriarty’s face but he was sure that would make things worse, not that it really mattered. He was probably going to be dead soon anyways. After a second John growled, “Fuck. You.”

Moriarty rolled his eyes impatiently and stepped to the side some, if his ribs weren’t already broken, the punch Moran threw surely did the trick. John desperately tried to stop the cry of pain that forced its way out of his throat. The pain was intense and overwhelming, if the chains weren’t holding him up he would surely be on the floor. This time Moriarty sounded much less patient, “Now pet is that all you can say.”

John lifted his eyes and glared at Moriarty, “Fuck. You.”

Moriarty sighed disappointedly and turned to Moran, “Sebby play with him a while so I can get some more footage to send to Sherly.”

“Even if Sherlock was alive I don’t matter! I am nothing but another stupid ape to him!” John yelled out angrily.

Moriarty smiled darkly, in a way that made John’s stomach turn, “Oh Johnny boy, Sherlock is very alive, and last I heard in America trying to take out my network, or what did he call it, oh yes my web. So far he has done quite well, don’t you get it. That is why you are here John, because I need Sherlock to stop.”

John closed his eyes against the burning sensation that came with tears filling his eyes. John clenched his jaw, the pain was intense but it distracted him from the flare of hope that rose in his chest. If Moriarty was telling the truth then Sherlock really had faked his death. Sherlock had let John believe for over a year that he was dead. John couldn’t help but wonder that if Moriarty hadn’t kidnapped him then how long would Sherlock had left him to believe he was dead. John had spent months, begging, and praying to every god he could think of that Sherlock was still alive, that it had just been a horrible nightmare and the man would just walk through the door to Baker Street again, it had started to fade a few months ago and at that point he was just depressed he was barely functioning. Now though, now John wasn’t sure if he wanted Sherlock to be alive, because if Sherlock was alive the idiot might try to help him. That was the last thing John wanted, he didn’t want Moriarty to have Sherlock in his pocket, it would make him feel ten times worse. John took a shallow breath, to upset to force himself to take a deeper one and slowly opened his eyes, a sudden calmness falling over him and he looked at Moriarty, or at least thats what it looked like, truthfully he was looking at the camera, if Moriarty was sending this to Sherlock he wanted Sherlock to listen to him, “Sherlock won’t stop because I don’t matter Jim. He wouldn’t have let me believe he was gone, he wouldn’t had let me suffer,” John’s eyes locked with Moriarty’s again and he continuted, “So you can do whatever you like to me, I don’t care. Feel free, really. Because,” This time John’s eyes were even more focused on the camera, “Because I know Sherlock isn’t coming to save me. And I swear to God I hope he takes down everything you bloody have and he kills your pathetic arse!” Finally for extra emphasis John spit the blood that was pooled in his mouth at Moriarty’s face. 

Moran slapped John so hard there where white spots in his vision, and when his vision cleared Moriarty had wiped the blood from his face, Moriarty was clearly ready to lunge at John and wanted desperately to wring the impotent man’s neck. John kept his face impassive, because he really didn’t care anymore. John didn’t want Sherlock to come and save him, not this time. John would rather Sherlock let him die, and keep doing what he was doing to take Moriarty down. John wasn’t sure what Moriarty would do to Sherlock if the man came for him, and John loved Sherlock to much to let that happen. John would always do whatever he could to keep Sherlock safe, from the first time they met, and if Sherlock came for him. John closed his eyes and forced himself to stop that train of thought. 

John opened his eyes and this time Moran was holding a leather flogger with shiny bits at the end of each strip. John didn’t move, he felt his legs twinge with the need to escape but he knew there was nowhere he could go. Before John could really process it, Moran whipped the flogger and hit him harshly across the chest, the opposite direction of the cuts that were already there, the tiny shards of metal biting into his skin painfully, John nearly cried out but he was able to stop himself. After taking a shallow breath he forced his face to appear impassive again. Moriarty smiled at Moran, “14 more, anywhere you like and then sedate him again. I have an idea for our new pet.”

John didn’t get the chance to imagine what that could entail before Moran hit him again, this time across his thigh. John just closed his eyes and gritted his teeth through the burning sensations and refused to jerk in pain. However by the 15th hit he couldn’t stop himself from jerking or letting out a small cry because it just hurt so much. John’s skin itched and burned as he felt blood trickling down across his chest, thighs and back, the fresher ones still bleeding but the first few, the blood was already starting to dry.  Before John could process any of the pain there was a needle in his neck again and a heaviness fell over him. John attempted to stay awake as long as he could but his body was hurting so badly he had no choice but to give in to the darkness that was starting to become welcome. 


	2. Meanwhile in America...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has just returned to his apartment after finally finishing his business in America and is planning to sleep when there is a knock on his door. The video Moriarty made for Sherlock has arrived, How will Sherlock react to seeing the man he has secretly loved, beaten.

**_Meanwhile somewhere in America…_ **

Sherlock sighed heavily as he finally got back to his apartment, normally he would make himself tea but he was to exhausted and went to his bed collapsing into it unceremoniously. Sherlock barely slept if he could avoid it and he had been avoiding it for nearly 4 days. Now though he was finally finished with his mission in America, next he was headed to France but he planned on sleeping until he needed to leave. The past two months there had been small whispers that Moriarty was alive and hiding in Germany, but for now, despite his bitter need for revenge that spun in his chest, he would take down Moriarty’s network first. Sherlock had already thought about the idea that Moriarty might have somehow made it off the roof, despite having watch the man blow his brains out for the simple fact that, John had thought he watched Sherlock jump off the roof and fall to his death but that wasn’t true so he had guessed it would be possible. 

Just as Sherlock was about to pass out there was a soft ring of his doorbell and he was suddenly alert, only a small group of people knew he was here and they were mostly across the pond. Sherlock grabbed for his gun stashed in his drawer next to his bed and went to the door. When Sherlock saw it was just a young boy with a package he carefully opened the door. Sherlock gave a cursory glance of the hallway making sure no one was watching before looking down at the boy, “Can I help you.”

The boy was 9, though he looked barely 6 because of malnourishment, he was short and had a few bruises, Probably physically abused, the boys dark hair was curly and unkempt, matted in some places with dirt, his clothes barely fit him so he was obviously homeless. Probably delivering the package he held for money so he could buy food. When he looked at the package closer it wasn’t really a package but a yellow envelope with his name written on it, not his alias but his actual name. That made him nervous because all of his associates in America knew him under his alias and if Mycroft would send him anything it would have been under his alias. When the boy spoke his voice waivered with nervousness, “P...package for Sherlock Holmes…”

Sherlock studied the boy for a moment before carefully taking the envelope from him and setting it on the table next to the door. Then Sherlock carefully knelt down so he could meet the boys eyes, and while he had been using an american accent to stay with the ruse he let his regular accent come through, “Who gave this to you?”

The boy gulped and looked around nervously, “A… A man downstiars. He siad he’d gimme 50 bucks if I brought this up to this place and… and gave it to you.”

Sherlock nodded a bit, despite his lack of finesse with adults he always liked dealing with children more. It was obvious this boy had been through alot so far in his short life and it pained Sherlock, “Did he have an accent like me?”

The boy quickly shook his head, “No… but… he sounded funny. I think I heard him say something in German to someone on the phone when he let me in here.”

Sherlock made a soft humming noise lost in thought, then looked at the boy, and stood up, glancing at the package before getting his wallet from his pocket. Sherlock handed the boy 60 more dollars, “Don’t give that to anyone alright? Use it for yourself and get some better clothes.”

The little boy’s eyes went wide before he nervously snatched the money from Sherlock and took off down the hall in case Sherlock changed his mind or was only teasing him. Sherlock sighed a bit as he closed the door and grabbed the package, whatever was in it wasn’t particularly heavy so he was definitely sure it wasn’t a bomb. Finally he carefully opened it and saw there was a disc inside with a small letter. Sherlock pulled the disc out first to see it had his name on it, but in the letter O there was a smiley face, just like the one Moriarty had done when he wrote ‘Get Sherlock’ on the glass of the Crown Jewels. In that second Sherlock knew 2 things, 1. Moriarty was indeed alive, and 2. Whatever was on this DVD was from him.

When Sherlock looked at the note it read,

_ “Sherlock you are being so naughty, taking out my network. I do hope you will enjoy the DVD I have sent for you. I am being very naughty myself, Now agree to stop and I will stop. The DVD will have more instructions for you. Ta-Ta.” _

__ Sherlock could only imagine what Moriarty was up to, as he grabed his laptop and put the disc in. When the screen finally came up there was nothing but black, so he hit the small play button in the middle. After 30 annoyingly long seconds, the screen fades to a concrete room with a man slumped over in a chair. Sherlock’s heart nearly stops because he didn’t imagine Moriarty would have taken John, Moriarty has taken John. For a second that is all the registers in his head until Moriarty’s annoying sing-song voice comes through his speakers, actually startling Sherlock a bit. Sherlock flinched when Moran hit John, and then flinched when John cried out as Moran cut his chest. Hearing John’s voice again made his whole brain practically short-circuit for a second. It had been a little over a year and here John was being tortured because of him. 

    Sherlock watched as Moran sedated John again, the picture jumped forward to John being stripped to almost nothing and shackled to the ceiling, Sherlock was sure that it had to be causing strain on John’s bad shoulder and maybe that was part of the goal. When John woke up Sherlock watched John’s eyes searching the room and landing on the camera a few times but also going to something else, when Sherlock listened closer he heard a very faint dripping noise and it was obviously what John was focusing on what was probably a leaky pipe. 

    The sound of the door opening was more grating this time and though he couldn’t see who was in the room yet, Moriarty’s voice filtered through the speakers. John was glaring harshly at Moriarty but John refused to say anything at first, as Moriarty tried to make him talk. When John still refused to speak Moran stepped into view again and punched John harshly in the stomach, John caught his breath and growled, ‘Fuck you.’ It made Sherlock want to berate John, aggravating Moriarty or Moran could have dire consequences because the man was so unpredictable.  

    Moriarty stepped into, then into John’s space and grabbed John’s chin, tilting his head up to meet him so John could look at him. Sherlock could see John’s eyes light with fury as Moriarty mentioned Sherlock again. When John interrupted Sherlock could see Moriarty’s muscles tense, probably unnoticable by John but he couldn’t help but notice, Moriarty’s thin patience was growing ever thinner.  Sherlock desperately wanted to slam his computer shut and walk away but he needed to watch it, he knew he needed to and normally he would have wanted to but this time, he really didn’t. Sherlock forced himself to ignore sentiment to watch everything he could. 

    As Moriarty started to leave, even though Sherlock could see he was baiting John, John was to emotional to notice. John yelled at Moriarty and it actually made Sherlock upset, to think that John thought so little of himself, to be fair enough Sherlock knew he probably hadn’t helped that. Sherlock watched the words Moriarty was affecting him and it made him feel worse. Then Sherlock saw the sudden calmness and acceptance fall over John as he opened his eyes. Sherlock could see him making Moriarty think he was looking at him but he was really focusing on the camera, Sherlock wondered if Moriarty had watched the video, because if he had he would have noticed. “Sherlock won’t stop because I don’t matter Jim. He wouldn’t have let me believe he was gone, he wouldn’t have let me suffer” John’s eyes shifted slightly to actually focus on Moriarty again, “So you can do whatever you like to me, I don’t care. Feel free, really. Because,” This time John’s eyes were even more blatantly focused on the camera, “Because I know Sherlock isn’t coming to save me. And I swear to god I hope he takes down everything you blood have and he kills your pathetic arse!” 

    Sherlock watched in shock as John spat blood in Moriarty’s face and it took every force he had to not slam the computer closed, not wanting to see what Moriarty’s reaction would be. Sherlock had forced his eyes closed against the burning sensation. He knew what John was telling him, John was telling him to keep doing what he was doing and tear down Moriarty’s network. Sherlock didn’t care, he needed to save John, because he loved John, John meant everything to Sherlock and he couldn't let Moriarty keep holding John. He didn’t want to tear down Moriarty’s network or do nothing for John, he couldn’t. 

    Sherlock heard a sharp slap and when he opened his eyes again Moran was holding a flogger, at first Sherlock didn’t see the reflecting bits of metal until they bit into John’s skin drawing blood.

     By the time Moran was finished John’s chest, legs and back were cut up pretty badly and it made his stomach turn and he wanted to throw up. Just as Moran picked up the needle to knock John out again, the video cut to a video of Moriarty, “Did you enjoy your show Sherlock, your pet is soooo loyal. I am willing to make you a deal Sherlock. If you stop taking out my web I will let Johnny boy go an you two can have a nice little reunion. Assuming he still wants to see you anyways, I mean its sad Sherlock. Did he really not see how much you loved him, I mean that is why I took him in the first place. Truthfully the fact that you were to oblivious to his own feelings and how much loves you is a pity. I mean it is so stupidly obvious, he is trying so hard to protect you even though you betrayed him. Now Sherlly, why don’t you do the smart thing and stop.”

     Finally Sherlock harshly closed his laptop and fought the urge to scream and cry. Moriarty had told him that as long as he jumped, and his popularity was gone then he would leave John alone and John would be safe. Now though he had taken John to get Sherlock to stop, it made his chest impossibly tight.

     Sherlock quickly grabbed his cellphone that he only used to contact Mycroft and hit the redial button. Even though it was nearly 2 am in London, it only took 3 rings before Mycroft answered and his slightly groggy voice came through, “What do you need Sherlock.”

    Ignoring his brother’s annoyed tone, he tried to keep his voice as calm as he could, “You were supposed to be keeping an eye on John, Mycroft where the hell is he?”

    Mycroft sat up in his bed quickly, Shite. Mycroft had known about John Watson’s kidnapping, and he was trying to track the man down and doing his best to keep it from Sherlock, how had he found out. “Brother Mine, what are you talking about.”

    Sherlock growled into the phone, he had almost no patience right now and he was not in the mood for his brother’s feign of ignorance, he could tell by the slight change in Mycroft’s voice his brother already knew about John. “Moriarty sent me a damned video of him fucking torturing John. So what happened?”

    Mycroft sighed internally, of course Moriarty had sent Sherlock a video, flaunting that he had his favorite person. “It is being handled brother Mine.”

     Sherlock couldn’t hold back his anger anymore and he shouted, “Obviously not very well! I just watched him getting fucking flogged! How long has he been missing?”

    “2 days” Mycroft replied even though he really didn’t want to, he knew what Sherlock would want to do, he would want to save John.

     Sherlock wanted so badly to snap again, throw his phone and figure this out himself but it would be better with his brother’s help as much as he despised that thought. “Get me a flight to Germany, now.”

     Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes, he knew his brother was sentimental towards the doctor but he didn’t think he would be stupid, “Sherlock I am perfectly capable of handling this. You need to take down Moriarty’s network.”

      “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT MORIARTY’S NETWORK! JOHN COULD BE DEAD BY NOW!” Sherlock roared angrily into his phone. After forcing out a few angry huffs, and forcing himself to quell his anger for now, “This video only contains 1 hour of footage Mycroft, you said he has had him for 2 days. Who knows what he could have done to John by now, I need to save him.”

    Mycroft scrubbed his hand over his face tiredly, “You are falling into a trap of Moriarty’s design brother mine. I am assuming since he sent you this video he is attempting to get you to stop, if you go after John you will be doing exactly as he wants.”

    Sherlock bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, to stop himself from yelling again, he was to worn out already. “You would assume correct, but I do not care. I am stopping and I am saving John and bringing him home,” Sherlock’s tone softened and he let his desperation into his tone, “John doesn’t deserve this My,”

     Mycroft tensed at hearing Sherlock calling him ‘My’, it was what Sherlock had called him when he was younger because he liked it better. Sherlock very rarely called him by the nickname anymore, only in times when he was very stressed or very upset and clearly Sherlock was both. Mycroft took a deep breath and conceded, “Go to the Orlando International Airport, I will have something figured out for you by the time you reach the airport. Call me when you arrive at the airport brother mine.”

     Sherlock had nothing left to say and hung up the phone, quickly grabbing all his belongings in his duffel bag and taking a cab to the airport. The ride to the airport took an hour, Sherlock couldn’t help but keep going back to the video Moriarty had sent him, he had brought it with him and he would focus on it better on the plane ride, look for any clues as to John’s wherabouts. 

     Once he reached the airport he did as his brother requested and called Mycroft, who informed him he would be taking a private jet with a few other from a big company in Berlin. Arrangements would be made by the time he landed in Berlin. 

 


	3. Permanent Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next time John wakes up he is in a bed, this time completely naked and it is not a good sign. A man, who bears a striking resemblance to Sherlock walks in, strips down to nothing and is raped. John is left with permanent scars, constant reminders of Moriarty and the power Moriarty will have over him when Sherlock saves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is graphic and includes rape. I tried not to go into to much detail because I don’t want to upset anyone. I promise this is important to this story. Read at your own risk

**_Back to the Unknown Location in Germany…_ **

**** John tried to hold back the whimper that escaped as he came back into conciousness, he was lightheaded and dizzy, it felt like the room was spinning and the bed he was laying in felt like it was rocking back and forth. The realization that he was in a bed made him think for just a second that it had all just been a sick nightmare, until the intense burning and itching from the cuts covering his body, the pain of the broken ribs, bruised jaw and his shoulder hit him like a ton of bricks. John quickly closed his eyes and wanted to curl up into a ball, the shackles on his wrists above his head stopping him from completely curling up but his feet did pull up some and when he looked at his feet they weren’t shackled, and this time there was more room for his wrists to move so he could somewhat move. Moriarty’s promise of a new idea for him made him realize that whatever was going to happen next was not going to be pleasant. John forced himself to take in a large breath, against the protests of his broken ribs. He knew it was a bit of a moot point to keep away any infections when he knew he wouldn’t be living long enough. 

The door opening brought John out of his thoughts, and he refused to let himself flinch. John used his eyes to track the movements of the person, Male, clearly not Moran or Moriarty but the man was dressed in all black, no attempts to hide his face told John that the man didn’t care about concealing himself because John wasn’t going to make it out alive, John accepted that. What caught John though, was how much this man looked like Sherlock, except his eyes were brown, and the skin was to tan. Not Sherlock’s alabaster shade he truly loved about Sherlock. 

    John watched the man strip down to nothing but boxers, and when the man grabbed something off the trolly, panic hit John so hard when he realized what this man was here to do. John tried desperately to get off the bed and get away, he was able to get most of the way off the bed but his top half was still on the bed, John desperately tried to pull at the shackles, trying to break them or the post. The metal was biting harshly into his skin, and it hurt a lot but the desire to flee overrode the pain John was feeling.

    The man ignored John at first, that was until he started yanking on the shackles, and he quickly moved to grab John. With seemingly little effort he had John so he was laying on his stomach now, his wrists twisted painfully and his arse in the air. 

    John felt the cuffs going around his ankles and knew that he really had nothing left, “Stop! Please! Please don’t!!”

    The man ignored John’s pleas and got up again, grabbing a tube of lube off the trolley. Then the man returned behind him, John expected the man to just push himself inside, but instead the man used the lube to open up John’s passage. It was still to quickly and he didn’t stretch quite enough before he was pushing his cock into John. 

    John closed his eyes and cried out in pain and as the man raped him. For nearly an hour the man raped him in different positions, unlocking John’s feet and moving him then locking his feet again. John had the opportunities to fight against the man but he was starting to mentally shut down at this point. When the man was finished he left John alone without a word. Moran came in not long after, to John it felt like it had been a long time but it hadn’t. Moran smirked at John’s broken form, then stepped to the trolley and grabbed a needle, John knew he should care, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care anymore. 

    An hour later John was woken up with a drug to wake him up from the sedation. As John was pulled into awareness he realized he was shackled to the ceiling again, and he wanted to cry, he felt so broken and he just wanted death now. It was clear Moran and Moriarty had other plans for him. Moran was the only one in the room right now, and he was holding a scalpel again. John just hung his head and let Moran do whatever he wanted, John knew there wasn’t anything he could do to stop him, so what was the point in trying anymore. Moran seemed annoyed that John was ignoring him but said nothing. Moran stepped into John’s space and carefully used the scalped to cut a small cut above John’s collar bone, dangerously close to his neck, and the wound bleed more than some of the other shallower cuts and it stung harshly. John tensed but closed his eyes and let out a harsh huff of breath. Moran smirked, “What’s wrong Doctor Watson? Are you tired from your workout with Moriarty’s little idea. That’s okay, I will still be having my fun with you.”

    John just let his head hang and closed his eyes, he was exhausted, completely and utterly exhausted. “Okay.”

    Moran was shocked that John had answered him, the man’s voice was completely dispondent and detached. It didn’t matter, Moran had orders of what to do, how to torture John this time. Moran cut a long line down John’s arm, careful not to go to deep so he wouldn’t bleed out. Then a few small cuts in other places, Moriarty had given him choices for where he could cut, except the last cut he made. Moriarty had insisted to him that it had to be on his face along his eye. Once finishing with the other cuts were finished he twirled the scalpel in his fingers deciding which eye he should cut. Moriarty wanted it to leave a permanent scar once Sherlock came for him, a constant reminder what Moriarty did, and the power Moriarty had over him. Finally Moran chose the right eye. Moran tilted John’s head up, and held his head still firmly as he made the cut. John cried out in pain and tried to fight but there was nothing he could do, he was to weak between the exhaustion, the cuts, and not eating.

    The next few days went somewhat similarly, tortured, knocked out, woken up, raped, knocked out, woken up, and tortured. John was given military revisions to eat to keep him alive, because if John was dead when Sherlock finally found them, then he would come after Moriarty and that was not what he wanted. 

    John had woken up naturally this time, and he was still in bed, that put him on edge, because Moriarty had never strayed from the cycle. John looked around the room the best he could out of the eye that wasn’t covered with gauze nervously, he was still in the room but the trolley was gone now, and it made John wonder if Moriarty was going to finally kill him, because since Moran had brought the trolley in, it had not left the room. John’s body was still too exhausted to analyze anything and he quickly passed out. 


	4. Sherlock to the Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finally finds John, John confesses his love to Sherlock before his heart stops. EMT’s revive John and take him to the hospital. Sherlock sees all the wounds, but when the nurse tells him about the rape Sherlock is caught off guard.

John wearily opened his good eye, as some banging on the other side of the door pulled him into awareness. When the door finally opened John’s heart nearly stopped as he locked eyes with Sherlock, clearly his throat he whimpered, “I… I told you...n...not to.”

Sherlock swallowed around the lump in his throat thickly, John had been tortured even more, and he was covered in cuts and awful black and blue bruises, there was gauze over John’s right eye. It made his stomach queasy to think what Moriarty had done to John, and moved to John’s side, “Yes well, I have been told I do not listen well.”

John winced in pain as Sherlock carefully unlocked the shackles on his wrists, John was struggling to stay aware, but he knew SHerlock shouldn’t be here, Moriarty was going to use him or kill him. “S...Sherlock… he is going to kill you. J...just go”

Sherlock bit back the snappy remark that nearly slipped off his tongue, then shook his head and softened his voice, “I am not going anywhere John, just relax alright, I have got you now. You are going to be safe now.”

John’s vision started to go blurry and dark around the edges, and he could feel himself slipping into unconciousness. Part of John wanted to tell Sherlock how much he hated him, because a part of him did. Not because he blamed Sherlock for being taken, but he was angry at Sherlock for letting him believe he was dead. John was completely unsure if he was actually going to wake up again, so he carefully lifted his hand and cupped Sherlock’s cheek, carefully whispered, “I love you Sherlock, and I forgive you.”

John barely able to finish saying that he forgave Sherlock before he passed out. Moriarty’s drugs, torture and the rape had been keeping him aware and refusing to give in to how much everything hurt and how weak he felt, but now Sherlock was there, and he could let himself give in to the darkness that was at the edge of his vision. 

As it turned out, John crashed, his breathing stopped and so did his heart. SHerlock watched in horror as John’s entire body went limp, Sherlock quickly searched for a pulse but couldn't even find a remotely faint one. When Sherlock was about to call for the EMT’s they were already right there. One of them moved Sherlock aside and quickly worked to get John’s heart beating again. 

    Sherlock watched with desperation and fear. His mind not letting him see anything but the negatives, and John not surving the longer his heart refused to beat on its own. Sherlock knew that it was possible to make it, but the longer it took the harder it was to think it could happen. After nearly 5 and a half minutes they were finally able to get John’s heart beating again, and quickly got him on the gurney, then hurry up and rushed him out to the ambulance. 

    Sherlock quickly stood and followed the EMT’s, when he got to the ambulance they refused to let Sherlock on the ambulance and made him take a cab to follow behind. Despite being frustrated and angry with them but he agreed and followed them to the hospital.

    After making it to the hospital Sherlock called Mycroft, “As soon as John is in a stable condition I want him back home, I don’t care how you do it Mycroft just do it!” Before Mycroft could say anything and respond Sherlock hung up the phone. Sherlock paced impatiently around the hospital waiting room, he was too  worked up to sit right now. Sherlock was biting his tongue to keep himself from shouting at the nurses who wouldn’t understand him right now. Not that Sherlock wasn’t proficient in German, but his brain wasn’t able to focus enough, and he couldn’t remember how to ask what he needed. 

    4 hours later, a nurse in grey scrubs approached him, and instead of speaking German, she spoke in English, and even had a british accent, her tone was soft, “You are here for our John Doe right.”

    Sherlock nodded hesitantly, then knowing she needed his name he forced himself to reply, “His name is John Hamish Watson, he… he is a doctor…”

    The nurse gave him a supplicating smile and carefully wrote it down on her clipboard.”Alright, do you know his blood type, he is getting O-neg at the mo’ but it would be better for him to have type specific.”

    Sherlock closed his eyes as he called up all the information on John, then responding, “John is O-postive.”

    The nurse nodded gently, writing it down before looking at Sherlock and her demeanour changed, telling Sherlock whatever she was about to tell him wasn’t good. “A majority of his wounds are superficial, except for the cut to his right eye, his eye seems undamaged but they will have to wait til he wakes up before we can tell for sure. However he was exposed to multiple types of drugs, a sedative to knock him out and something to wake him up, so his heart is very stressed out right now. He has torn muscles in his left shoulder, and it was also dislocated. There are multiple broken ribs, he has a bruised jaw, and he has severe anal tearing.”

    Most of the wound’s Sherlock had seen, was able to catalogue them, the moment she said anal tearing his heart felt like it stopped and he was frozen where he stood. “What?”

    The nurse nodded slightly, and her voice softened again, “There was apparently bleeding, so they did a rape kit, there are semen samples and they found some severe tearing. For now he is in a medically induced coma and basically on life-support to give his body a break.”

    Hearing the unnesecassary lengths Moriarty had gone to made Sherlock want to go find the man and rip his head off, but he forced himself to take a breath before looking at the woman, “Can he be moved back to London?”

    The nurse shook her head gently, “Not in his current state. He needs at least a week before we can think about moving him, and even then our doctors would prefer to wait until he wakes up on his own.”

    Sherlock closed his eyes tightly and nearly snapped at the woman, normally he really didn’t care but he was to tired and exhausted, but the woman was being patient with him and he didn’t want to make her leave and then have to deal with the other nurses. Finally Sherlock swallowed around the lump in his throat then tiredly asked, “Can I see him?”

    The woman’s face turned sympathetic before she gently nodded her head, “As I said he is hooked up to multiple machines right now, but I can take you to come see him.”

    Sherlock nodded but didn’t want to say anything else so he kept quiet. THe nurse lead him to the ICU and into John’s room. SHerlock thought he was prepared, he had seen John before they had taken him, but seeing John intubated, the bed and all the machines made John look even smaller then he had been. Sherlock’s breathing caught in his throat, it took him a second for him to force himself to breathe. After he took a deep breath he walked over to John’s bed and shakily took John’s hand, then shakily choked out, “Oh John…”

    Sherlock sighed and carefully reached his hand up to carefully cup John’s cheek, stroking it gently with the back of his thumb. Sherlock knew the nurse was still in the room because he could feel her watching him but he didn’t care. Sherlock carefully stroked John’s hair, “I am so sorry John…”

    The nurse moved into the room, and to John’s other side was, looking at the monitors before softly speaking, “Normally visiting hours end at 9 but his heart rate has already improved slightly with you here so if you would like to say, you may. I can have a cot set up for you.”

    Sherlock nodded idly, absently looking at the monitors. John’s heart rate was still to high but it had dropped a couple beats and looked a little better. Just as the woman was about to leave Sherlock spoke suddenly, “You are british.”

    The woman turned towards Sherlock and gave him a soft smile, before nodding. “Indeed I am. I moved here a year ago,”

    Sherlock studied the woman, facts flying around him. “After a divorce with an abusive husband.”

    The woman stiffened some, then looked at Sherlock closer and realization came over her, “You are Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock looked up at the woman, studying her again. It wasn’t suprising he had been famous before faking his death, especially with all the drama with Moriarty before. She looked at Sherlock before looking at John and her eyes widening more, “Oh my God. He is John Watson… he… he wrote the blogs”

    Sherlock closed his eyes and nodding absently. “Yeah.”

    The nurse looked at John with even more sadness before she looked back at Sherlock again, “I will let you be alone then, I will be back in, in an hour to check on him.”

   Sherlock didn’t say anything this time and heard her leave, then shut the door. Sherlock carefully reached forward and lightly stroked John’s hair whispering, “I will find him John. I will find him and kill him, but I couldn’t let him kill you. I know you are under the stupid impression that I do not care about you, but you were probably the best thing that ever happened to me. The day you walked into the lab changed my life for the best.”


	5. In the Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its been a week since John was rescued from Moriarty’s hold, Sherlock has all but refused to leave John’s side even with Mycroft’s prompting he refuses. Until the nurse who was there when John was admitted comes in, and she is able to convince Sherlock to take a shower. Mycroft shows actual concern and its a bit shocking for him to do so but he does anyways.

The next week was the hardest thing Sherlock had been through in a long time, Sherlock refused to leave John’s side, he barely ate, refused to rest for to long in case John woke up. Mycroft had flown out 2 days after John was admitted to the hospital and has been trying ever since to get Sherlock to leave the hospital and rest. Sherlock was irritable, exhausted but to afraid to really let John by himself. Sherlock’s curls were sticking to his head in weird ways because he hadn’t had a shower in the 6 days since John had been in the hospital. 

Finally the nurse who had been there on the first day John had come in, came back. Because when John came in it was the last day of her 8 day shift rotation. When she saw Sherlock she gently shook her head at him and narrowed her eyes, “There is a shower right there in that bathroom, I will be back in a few minutes with some body wash and things for your hair.”

Sherlock couldn’t even open his mouth to reply or argue with the woman because she quickly turned around to get the things she said she was. Mycroft looked at his little brother, who actually seemed to be contemplating taking a shower like the woman had just insisted, and carefully moved closer to him. “Brother mine, I can watch John long enough for you to take a shower, you could even leave the door open if you like.”

Sherlock looke up at Mycroft hesitantly, then finally nodding. John’s condition had somewhat improved but he was still in a coma. THey had taken John off the medicine keeping him in a coma yesterday, and so far he had shown no signs of waking up yet, but they didn’t want to give him anything to take him up because it would stress his heart out. Sherlock wondered if part of the reason John hadn’t woke up yet was not due to the physical trauma he endured but because of the mental trauma.  Sherlock carefully stroked John’s hair and pressed his lips to John’s forehead, softly whispering, “I am right here John, you are safe now. I saved you, I will always save you.”

John showed no response to Sherlock’s words, so Sherlock sighed lightly before getting up and looking at the nurse as she came back in holding shampoo, conditioner and body wash. To Sherlock’s shock it wasn’t the hospital brand, it was pretty much the same stuff he used at home except the labels were in German. “Take a shower, and I don’t mean 2 seconds in and out, actually clean yourself. I will stay in here and keep an eye on Doctor Watson.”

Mycroft was going to argue with the woman, that he was capable of watching John, but then Sherlock actually listened to her and went into the bathroom, he didn’t shut the door completely but it was cracked. Mycroft raised his eyebrows at the woman, “I have been trying to do that for the last 2 days now.”

The nurse looked up at Mycroft before shrugging gently, “I was here when John first came in, it was the end of my 8-day rotation. Technically i am not supposed to be back until tomorrow  but I am covering for a friend.”

Mycroft studied the woman for a moment before making a soft humming noise and looking back at John’s small form, “John is the only person I have seen able to get my brother to listen.” Mycroft looked at the woman again, “Sherlock is not exactly an easy man to deal with.”

The nurse gave him a small chuckle and smiled, “He seemed rather alright to me.”

Mycroft didn’t say anything in reply, but he looked at John again, “How long do you think it will take for him to wake up?”

The nurse shook her head a bit as she checked his chart, “Well for the most part his physical health has improved, although they do think he might have pnuemonia from the broken ribs and not taking enough deep breaths. Some of his scars he will bear for a long time, especially the one on his eye. However the real concern is his mental health, technically he should be waking up. There is no physical reason for him not to be. The implications of what happened to him, just from the trauma I saw on his chart and when he came in, I can only imagine what happened. This case has been bothering me, its part of the reason I cam back early, I have been checking in with my friends to see how he is doing. Your brother was clearly not leaving John’s side and I wanted to see the both of them in person.”

Mycroft nodded a little, when he had arrived at the hospital Sherlock had been more vulnerable and letting his emotions show with John then he had seen his brother be in years. When it came to explaining the extent of John’s injuries it was mechanical and he was right back to the man Mycroft was used to seeing. Mycroft had been angry with himself when he arrived and saw how bad John had been hurt. Because he should have had better surveillance on John, but he never thought Moriarty was still alive. Just as Mycroft opened his mouth to say something else Sherlock came back in the room, his hair was still mostly wet but it would dry on its own, and he was wearing jeans, and a t-shirt on inside out. Most people saw it as odd but Mycroft knew that his brother had sensitive skin, and sometimes the seams of his shirts would irritate his skin so he would wear them inside out.

Sherlock barely paid any attention to his brother or the nurse as he carefully sat next to John, and carefully leaning forward and running his fingers through John’s hair softly. Then gently whispering, “Please John, I promise that whatever happened, whatever Moriarty did to you he can’t do it anymore. He can’t because I am back and I won’t let him hurt you John.”

John’s lip twitched slightly in response but other than that there was nothing. The small twitch though had Sherlock’s heart pounding hopefully in his chest. Sherlock refused to say anything to Mycroft or the nurse yet because he knew it could just be involuntary responses. Sherlock took a deep breath and kept carefully running his fingers through John’s hair and whispering soft words of love, encouragement and promises of safety in his ears.


	6. One last kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally wakes up, but instead of begging Sherlock to stay with him he tells Sherlock to leave, Sherlock tries to argue but when it comes to John he can’t say no very well. When John ask’s Sherlock to kiss him, of course Sherlock gives him what he wants

It was another 5 days before John’s eyes flickered open, Sherlock was sitting right next to John, holding his hand, and softly talking to him, when Sherlock noticed John’s eyes moving back and forth under his eyelids as he tried to wake up. Sherlock stood suddenly and moved closer to John, carefully cupping his cheek and whispering, “Come on John, wake up for me.”

John finally forced his eyes open, and Sherlock felt his knees nearly gave in but he fought to stay up and kept stroking John’s cheek his hand shaking a bit, “Oh John…”

John looked at Sherlock with confusion. John was sure he was dead, he had to be dead because Sherlock was dead… wasn’t he? Something was blocked in his brain but it was telling him that wasn’t right but he couldn’t figure out why. The last thing he was remembering clearly was being at work, “S...Sherlock…”

Sherlock kept stroking John’s cheek gently, he could see the confusion and fear in John’s features. “It’s alright John, just relax alright. You are in a hospital in Germany. Do you remember what happened John?”

John frowned at the mention of being in Germany, that made no sense to him, why was he in Germany. The last place he had been was at work, at least that’s what he could remember right now. John knew something was wrong about it though, he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember why he was in Germany. “I… I don’t understand S...Sherlock.”

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and started explaining what had happened, not even halfway through his explanation John seemed to remember everything and his eyes widened, then he quickly sat up and tried to push Sherlock away from him, “Sherlock no! He is going to kill you! You can’t be here! You have to go. Just let me die please! I can’t lose you again.”

Sherlock didn’t move at all and carefully held John to keep him from hurting himself to badly, and softly whispered soothing words to John, “Shhh, Shhh love it’s alright. You are safe now, thats all that matters right now.”

John fought Sherlock at first before he had to relent, even though most of the superficial cuts had healed, his ribs still hurt and he was very weak. John took in large gulps of air in his panic, and Sherlock carefully ran his fingers through John’s hair and whispering soft words of comfort. 

It wasn’t what John would have expected, least of all from Sherlock, because Sherlock wasn’t like this. It was very comforting though and John was able to calm down somewhat. John croaked out weakly, “S...Sherlock…”

Sherlock carefully pulled away and cupped John’s cheeks, then looking into John’s good eye, Sherlock wasn’t sure if John had even realized he couldn’t see out of both eyes yet. “I’m so sorry John…”

John swallowed thickly before the anger overwhelmed him and he reached up and slapped Sherlock hard, “YOU ARSE! YOU LET ME THINK YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD”

Sherlock winced and held his own cheek, then bit his lip an fought the tears that sprung to his eyes before gently choking out, “I know John, I am sorry… I really i am. I was trying to protect you… Moriarty had assassins trained on you, on you and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade… if I didn’t jump they were going to kill you… and then… then he shot himself… or I thought he shot himself in front of me and I had no choice…”

John sniffled back the tears and closed his eyes, before looking at his hands, biting his lip and softly whispering, “You shouldn’t have come Sherlock, I told you not to…”

Sherlock shook his head, “Don’t be absurd John. I had to save you, you mean everything to me. I couldn’t let you just… I couldn’t let him keep doing that to you John. I just couldn’t.”

John closed his good eye and turned himself towards Sherlock more, “Sherlock…”

Sherlock carefully leaned forward and captured John’s lips, not being to rough or pushing John in anyway, giving him a chance to pull away. After another moment he pulled away and looked at John, “John Watson, I love you. I couldn’t ignore that video he sent me, it was impossible for me to walk away or keep going on with my business.”

John stared into Sherlock’s eyes in shock, he had fallen for Sherlock embarrassingly fast when the met but he never said anything because he was under the impression Sherlock would never be interested in a relationship let alone a relationship with him. “I love you to Sherlock, I have… for… a long time…”

Sherlock nodded a little and kept running his fingers through John’s hair tenderly, at this point it was less about soothing John and more about soothing himself. Sherlock had realized soon after John had moved in that he was interested in the doctor, but he thought it was just a fluke, but after being forced to leave to save John, he knew he loved John more than anything. A week after leaving London, Sherlock had been forced to lock the door to the room he had for John in his mind palace because it was hurting to much. 

Sherlock bit his lip and was overwhelmed by his emotions, “I am so sorry John, really I thought with me gone and my popularity gone he would leave you alone…”

John had to bit his lip to force himself from snapping out a harsh remark before nodding. John knew that it wasn’t Sherlock’s fault, he blamed Sherlock for letting him think he was dead but he didn’t blame Sherlock for Moriarty taking him. Though John had a feeling this wasn’t something Sherlock would see, and Sherlock would blame himself. John softly spoke, “He has a hold over you now Sherlock…”

Sherlock closed his eyes and then shook his head, “Don’t worry about that right now John. Now that you are awake we can get you back to London, back to Baker Street.”

John pulled away from Sherlock some even though he really loved the way Sherlock was treating him, and he carefully took Sherlock’s hand, and the next thing he said made his heart ache “Sherlock, I will go back to London, but you need to finish what it is you were doing…”

Sherlock’s eyes opened and he locked eyes with John, then shook his head, “John he could take you again, I can’t take that risk.”

John nodded a little and softly spoke, “I will be fine Sherlock, I hate it, because I desperately just want you back at Baker Street with me again but I want you… I need you to take out Moriarty. I can’t feel safe again until I know you have taken him out.”

Sherlock chewed on his lip before looking at Mycroft who had just walked in, Sherlock stood up straight and cleared his throat of his emotions, “Have you announced I am alive.”

Mycroft shook his head a bit, “I wasn’t going to until after you returned to London with John.”

Sherlock looked at John, who gave him a soft smile and a little nod. Sherlock turned back to Mycroft and took a breath, “I won’t be going back to London with John. I need to go to France, I need to stick with my original plan. Moriarty has likely already started filling holes I put into it.”

Mycroft looked more shocked then John would have though, but Mycroft nodded “Alright, I will increase John’s security and have my people fix up your flat.”

Sherlock nodded curtly, “I don’t want this to happen again Mycroft, and I swear on everything if it happens again and you do not inform me.”

Mycroft gave a slight nod, “Of course brother mine, I can give you another hour with John and then get you on a flight to France and a special flight for John and I back to London.”

Without hesitation Sherlock nodded, “Right then, until it is time for me to go…”

Mycroft understood what Sherlock was asking, turned on his heel and left the room closing the door. Sherlock sagged in his chair and buried his face in his hands frustratedly, nearly forgetting John was awake until he spoke, “Sherlock are you going to sit there and pout or are you going to come lay with me.”

Sherlock looked up at John and narrowed his eyes trying to pretend that he was fine, “I am most certainly not pouting.” Sherlock ignored the smirk from John as he carefully crawled into the bed with John, it was a bit of a squeeze but it was nice to be so close to John like this. Sherlock was hesitant to hold John, by putting his arm across John’s chest, he knew it had to be painful, the broken ribs would take a long time to heal. Before Sherlock could awkwardly put his arm at his side John carefully took his hand and pulled Sherlock’s arm around him, “I am fine Sherlock, don’t baby me.”

Sherlock looked at John in confusion and softly shook his head, “John that isn’t what I was trying to do at all, I swear. You were hurt… really bad and I just… I don’t want to make it any worse.” Sherlock paused and rested his head on John’s before pulling away again, “Do you remember when I found you in that room?”

John nodded, of course he remembered, it was the best and scariest moment he had for a long time. John had been so bloody relieved to see Sherlock but at the same time so fucking worried for the man he loved because he knew what Moriarty could do. John swallowed around the lump in his throat and softly whispered, “Of course…”

Sherlock closed his eyes and carefully rested his chin on top of John’s head, “When you blacked out… you’re heart stopped…”

John sighed a bit, and carefully stroked the back of Sherlock’s hand, John didn’t have to imagine what Sherlock went through, seeing someone he loved die in front of him. John had been forced to watch Sherlock die, he thought he had anyway, but he had been there, he had been under the impression Sherlock was really gone for a year. “Sherlock I am okay…”

Sherlock rolled his eyes indignately and shook his head, “No you aren’t John. You died, Moriarty took you, and he sent me a video of him torturing you John. When I finally get to you and find you, you died in my arms… I…”

John bit out frustratedly, “And I had to watch you jump from a damned building Sherlock! I can’t even go near St. Barts without having a damn panic attack, without seeing you on the roof or on the bloody ground with blood all over you!”

Sherlock tensed and and closed his eyes, Sherlock had known it would effect John, but he hadn’t thought it would be that bad. “I am sorry J...John…”

John took a deep breath at the protest of his ribs and bit his lip, forcing the anger at having to watch Sherlock die, and having to live with that pain away. John knew now why Sherlock did what he had done but it still hurt, “I believe you Sherlock… You need to go, just… just come back to me alive… Please Sherlock”

Sherlock pressed his lips gingerly to John’s head and whispered against his skin, “I promise John, I will do everything in my power to come back alive.”

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the moment he felt Sherlock’s weight disappear from next to him, he opened his eyes quickly and grabbed Sherlock’s hand. John hesitated for a moment before softly whispering, “Kiss me Sherlock…”

Sherlock himself hesitated before moving next to John again and carefully leaning down and pressing his lips to John’s. Instead of pulling apart Sherlock rested his forehead against John’s, neither of them said anything, because they didn’t know if anything else could be said at this point. 

Mycroft carefully cleared his throat to get his brother’s attention, when Sherlock looked back at him, Mycroft gave him a gentle nod, “I got you a flight that leaves in an hour, so you need to leave brother mine.”

Sherlock sighed heavily but nodded, and turned to look at John again, to see John staring back at him. Sherlock leaned down and gave John on more kiss, before standing up, straightening himself out and leaving the room. 


	7. Sherlock's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been 2 years since John last saw Sherlock. John has changed, Sherlock has changed. Will the silent promises they made 2 years ago still hold.

    That was the last time John saw Sherlock for another two years. Occasionally, with Mycroft’s help Sherlock would send John a message via text or by letters if it was too risky to text him, Sherlock couldn’t tell him where he was, but if Sherlock texted him they could talk for a couple hours when Sherlock had time. There were times when Sherlock hadn’t texted for a few days when John was sure he had imagined even seeing Sherlock Although the constant nightmares about the week he was in Moriarty’s hold reminded him it had all been real. 

    Finally two years later Sherlock was walking through the front door of 221B. John was in the kitchen when he heard Sherlock’s familiar footfalls and his whole body froze, Sherlock took the stairs differently than Mrs. Hudson or Greg, Mycroft rarely visited it was usually a henchman but they still were different than Sherlock’s. John felt his heart pounding in his chest and for a moment he was sure he was hallucinating until Sherlock carefully stepped around the corner and softly spoke, “Hello again John…”

    John nearly dropped his cup of tea but before he could Sherlock was stepping into the kitchen and caught the cup, only spilling a drop before carefully placing it on the table, Sherlock’s voice was soft as he spoke again, “I am so sorry it has taken me so long John, I didn’t anticipate for it to take me as long as it has.”  
John shook his head, then grabbed Sherlock pulling him down to his lips and kissed him deeply then carefully pulled away and whispered against Sherlock’s lips, “I just care that you came back to me alive Sherlock…”

    Sherlock took a deep breath and gently wrapped his arms around John, holding him close. Sherlock studied John, he could see John wasn’t sleeping well, he had lost even more weight since the last time he had seen him, which Sherlock knew couldn’t be healthy. Sherlock softly chided, “John…”

    John closed his eyes and rested his head against Sherlock’s shoulder, he knew what Sherlock was chiding him about but he really didn’t feel like talking about it. “I’m fine.”

    Sherlock sighed then carefully pulled John away from him and hooked his finger under John’s chin making the shorter man look up at him, then chided again, “John you aren’t sleeping well, you aren’t eating right, you have lost even more weight since the last time I saw you, and you look… well to put it kindly you look like shit.”

    John chuckled bitterly, “Thank you, Sherlock,”

    Sherlock sighed gently before kissing John’s head and pulling away slightly, “Is Lestrade still coming by tonight?”

    John looked at Sherlock in confusion before nodding and replying “Yes he started coming by once a week after…”

    Sherlock hummed softly in return, “I know, Mycroft has kept me informed. I am glad you had someone here checking on you other than my brother's men. I have been concerned for you, John.”

    John looked away and went to grab for his cup of tea, he needed a distraction. Sherlock’s presence was giving him flashbacks and his chest was starting to feel a smidge to tight. Sherlock, as usual, was able to tell what was wrong and carefully moved out of John’s personal space. When he did though, John could see the slight hurt in Sherlock’s eyes and he felt bad. John couldn’t meet Sherlock’s eyes and looked at his cup instead before shakily speaking, “Sherlock I…”

    “Don’t worry about it John, I understand,” Sherlock interrupted softly “The last two times you have seen me you were forced to go through hell emotionally and physically. That is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you mind if I go take my things to my room?” 

    John nodded and looked back at his cup of tea, carefully bringing it up to his lips and sipping at it gently. As Sherlock started to walk in the direction of his room, John remembered he had been sleeping in there the last few days. After Sherlock’s faked death, John had been trying to go through his things and slept in the man’s room. Eventually, John had gone back to sleeping in his room but, after getting back from the ordeal with Moriarty John had slept in Sherlock’s room again. The last two years, around the anniversary of Sherlock’s faked death and his kidnapping John slept in Sherlock’s room. John tried to call for Sherlock to stop him but by the time he went to the hallway, Sherlock was already in his room staring at the bed, clearly making deductions. John forced himself to take a deep breath before moving towards Sherlock’s room and forcing himself to speak, “Sherlock, I am sorry… I just… I can’t sleep well around this time and…”

    Unexpectedly Sherlock turned to John and slowly kissed him, at first John expected to tense up and to deal with the flashbacks. Not that John didn’t want to kiss Sherlock, because he did, he loved Sherlock that hadn’t changed. However, when John wasn’t the one who initiates intimacy, he tended to have flashbacks. Even though John loved Sherlock, he had tried to be in a couple relationships to prove to himself that he wasn’t as fucked up as he knew he really was after the shit Moriarty put him through.

    Regardless John didn’t freak out, he felt his body relaxing into the kiss and he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy Sherlock’s touch. Sherlock was careful and tender with John, Sherlock knew that with the trauma Moriarty put John through it would be hard for him to handle intimacy. Sherlock also knew that John had, had a few attempts at other relationships and he perfectly understood why, but he swore that he would take everything at John’s pace. Sherlock pulled away despite enjoying the closeness and cupped John’s cheek, “Are you alright? Sorry I should have asked first…”

    John nodded, “Yes I am fine love really. I mostly… I have tried to be in other relationships. I… I wanted to… to try to be okay… but I…”

    Sherlock nodded in return and gently stroked the back of John’s neck, “I know, as I said Mycroft kept me informed. He knew why you were doing it, or he would have stepped in. I would tell you that it wouldn’t work but then again… I do not have the same grasp on emotions that you do.”

    John chewed on his lip and looked at his hands, then he whispered, “I would have flashbacks if… If I didn’t initiate intimacy… and well… anything past… anything past kissing really… I couldn’t do it…”

    Sherlock carefully rubbed the back of John’s neck and softly kissed his head, “We will take everything at your pace, John. Do you want to continue to stay in here,” Sherlock paused as he tried to think of the right words? “I mean… do you think you could handle staying in the same bed as me?”

    John chewed on his lip then replied, “I would like to try....”

    Sherlock hummed gently, then slowly moved away from John to put his things away. When he faked his suicide he had not had the time to take anything, Mycroft had been forced to send him a few new suits and some other clothes because while John wasn’t always the most observant Sherlock was sure John would have noticed if his things had started to go missing. Sherlock spoke while he put his new suits away, “If you feel you can’t John, please tell me. I promise I just want to make you happy.”

    John sighed and watched Sherlock, “I told you, Sherlock, just… just coming here again and being alive has made me happy.”

    Sherlock turned to John and spoke, “You say you are happy but your body is contradictory. You look as though you want to run away from me.”

    John closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath, then looked away from Sherlock as he spoke, “Seeing you again brings all those memories back to the forefront of my mind Sherlock… I mean… I mean sure they never really left but I was starting to get better at dealing with them… or I should say ignoring them…” When John sees the pain in Sherlock’s eyes he carefully moves closer to Sherlock and softly continues, “Sherlock that doesn’t mean I don’t still love you. You saved my life even when I told you not to, I know you think I blame you or that I should blame you but I could never blame you because I know better. Moriarty taking me was not your fault and what happened while he had me was not your fault either. Moriarty was insane and he deserved whatever the hell you did to him.” John took a deep breath and looked at the bed, “Can… can we lay down until Greg comes… I…” John pauses as he tries to work up the courage to ask Sherlock for a cuddle.

    Sherlock takes a deep breath then nods and understanding what John wants he speaks, “Of course John. Do you mind… I mean would it be an issue if I take off my shirt. My skin has been really irritated lately…”

    John sighed a breath of relief then shook his head a bit, “No not at all Sherlock, you should be comfortable.”


	8. Time for a.... Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When John starts to fall asleep a flashback is tearing apart the happiness he has at having Sherlock back, once Sherlock can get John calmed down enough he leaves to make tea, but ends up breaking half of their dishware. And Sherlock makes a deduction John wishes he wouldn't have.

    Sherlock nodded, taking off his shirt and then gently climbing into his bed, and John climbed in after him. Sherlock forced himself to hold back the comment that John could take his own shirt off because he knew it probably wouldn’t happen. The scar on John’s eye had looked better than Sherlock would have expected it too but he also remembered how bad the rest of the cuts were 2 years ago and John was self-conscious about them. Sherlock intended to try and show John that he didn’t need to be ashamed of it but right now he was content to just lay with John. Sherlock wrapped his arm gently around John’s waist, not really squeezing John to close. John laid with his face in Sherlock’s chest, and despite the silence unnerving him and putting him on edge at first, he felt safe in Sherlock’s arms. John started to slowly drift off, but just as he let himself really relax and felt okay the flashbacks were ripping into his head. The man who looked eerily like Sherlock climbing on top of him and rapping him again. John struggled against the arms that held him and cried out, “No, no no nonononono, please!! Please no more!! No More… I can’t! I can’t it hurts please…”

    Sherlock tightened his grip on John trying to keep John from hurting himself or him, “John, John love it’s okay. It’s Sherlock, I have you. You are safe, no one’s hurting you, John. No one is hurting you.” Sherlock kept repeating himself and kept his arms wrapped around John tightly. John still struggled for a few minutes before Sherlock’s calming words and the soothing scent of Sherlock’s cologne was slowly filtering through his terror. John panted for breath and he was shaking hard, also holding his wrists reaffirming that he was no longer chained. Sherlock was finally able to let go of John and cupped his cheek, stroking it gently he softly spoke, “Come back to me love… You are here with me, you aren’t there anymore. I saved you, I will always save you, John. I’ve got you”

    John opened his eyes, and once they connected with Sherlock’s tears filled his eyes. John chewed his lip before turning his head away from Sherlock and then completely turned himself over trying to desperately fight the tears. Sherlock let go of John then moved closer to John, one hand rubbing his back and the other holding John close. It was a few seconds before the sobs wracked John’s body, Sherlock’s arm tightened around John and pulled him closer, softly whispering, “Shhh I’ve got you, John.”

    John was shaking hard, and after another minute John turned back into his chest and was still sobbing. It wasn’t long before the sobbing stopped but John was still to worked up to say anything. It took 20 minutes before John was finally able to speak, “I… I am sorry…”

    Sherlock softly shakes his head and pressed his lips to John’s forehead, then softly replied, “You have nothing to apologize for John,”

    John shook his head and pulled himself out of Sherlock’s arms and then he got up. He was still shaking, and he significantly colder and lonely but he ignored Sherlock’s eyes and then went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Sherlock sighed as he watched John leave, he was torn between wanting to stop John and knowing that with John, before when his PTSD was just war-related that sometimes after really bad nightmares or a bad flashback he was too angry, frustrated and needed to be alone. 

    John moved to the kitchen and his shaking was no longer from the fear but because of his frustration. As John pulled out his cup, he really wanted to throw something but Greg had already cleaned up after him a few too many times and John really didn’t want to have that happen again. John was trying not to scream as he slammed the cabinets shut and was doing things too hard but it still wasn’t satisfying the anger bubbling to the surface. Until the quiet, wasn’t completely quiet because the sink was dripping and it reminded him too much of being in that concrete bunker and he finally snapped, throwing his cup against the wall “For fuck's sake why can’t I just go back to normal!!!”

    The cup shattered against the wall but it still wasn’t enough, and he just started grabbing things and threw them against the wall, most things shattered but a few things didn’t. Finally, John had worn himself out and collapsed to the ground shaking and had his knees pulled to his chest breathing harshly. Once the noise had stopped Sherlock stepped into the kitchen, but instead of saying anything he went over to John and carefully supported the man. They sat like that for an hour before Sherlock broke the silence, “What happened to you wasn’t your fault John… you can’t help how you reacted to that trauma. I know it is hard John, I do but you will get through it, and I will be here for you.” Sherlock’s voice trailed off for a few minutes before his posture changed slightly and his tone was soft, “Now… I am going to deduce something… and I would really like you to tell me the truth without me having to deduce that you are lying... “

    John chewed his lip and moved to look at Sherlock, trying to study the man’s face. John had known Sherlock well enough to know that he only ever told him he was going to deduce something if it was something that was probably going to make him uncomfortable. John swallowed the lump in his throat, “I promise…”

    Sherlock stroked John’s cheek before taking his hand, “Did the man who Moriarty had rape you… look like me?” Sherlock posed the deduction as a question because, in all honesty, he wanted to be wrong.

    John tensed and closed his eyes tightly, he wanted to keep that to himself, but he had just promised Sherlock. Not to mention his reaction had probably told Sherlock everything so he knew to lie was pointless. After another moment of quiet, John nodded and hoarsely replied, “Sort of… he… his eyes were a different color and he was...was to tan but…”

    Sherlock sighed a bit, then reached his hand up to stroke John’s hair tenderly. “How many times?”

    John flinched, Sherlock’s tone was a bit cold but John knew Sherlock wasn’t doing it on purpose. John really didn’t want to talk about this with Sherlock, he hadn’t even really gone into detail about it with the therapist Mycroft had found for him. “Too many…”

    Sherlock carefully hooked a finger under John’s chin and made John look at him, “I know you counted John. How many times.”

    John closed his eyes tightly and finally bit out, “22.”

    Sherlock let out a harsh breath and then closed his own eyes, he didn’t think that Moriarty was that cruel. “I am so sorry John… I… I didn’t think he would have done that… I didn’t know he was that cruel…”

    John leaned his head against Sherlock’s chest and closed his eyes whispering, “Yeah well…”


	9. Lestrade visits (And threatens Sherlock, sort of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade shows up for his weekly visit to find Sherlock and John in the kitchen, and of course the mess in the kitchen. It's nothing new to Greg, and once John is in the other room, Greg has a talk with Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry its taken me so long to get this out guys, I have not felt like working on it. I have hardly worked on any of my published stories between here and Fanfiction.net I feel awful but I hope you guys can forgive me

Sherlock gently pressed his lips to John’s head again, leaving them there for a moment, just as he was about to say something, there was a knock and footsteps came in, Greg’s voice filled the room as he called out, “John, are you in here?”

Sherlock spoke before John could, “In the kitchen Lestrade.”

Greg entered the kitchen, looked around at all the broken glass, then looking between Sherlock and John before focusing on Sherlock, “You know I don’t think it would kill you to call me by my first name for once you bastard.”

Sherlock was slightly surprised at the calmness in Lestrade’s tone, he had expected more anger. This did tell him that Lestrade would likely lecture him later but for now, he was keeping it in for John’s sake. John swallowed thickly and then stood up, clearing his throat, “I can clean it up this time Greg…”

Greg shook his head and motioned towards the living room, “Don’t worry about it, go on to the living room.”

John finished getting up and went to the living room, and Sherlock stood to follow but Gregg put a hand on his chest to stop him, then turned to close the kitchen doors. Greg turned back to face Sherlock and spoke softly even though Sherlock could tell by the tension in his body he wanted to yell, “I don’t think I actually need to say anything but I will anyway because you sometimes forget to pay attention to the way people are feeling and not just the facts. I hope you understand he has been through hell, even before he was kidnapped, Sherlock. I didn’t really think he was going to make it. I found him by your headstone with a gun on the anniversary of your death after Mrs. Hudson called me crying because he left the house after giving her a hug and telling her goodbye, she had no idea where he was going but she was sure he was going to do something. Then he got kidnapped, and when he got back, there was something a little better about him but the nightmares, and the flashbacks, it's been killing him. I have been doing everything I can, but I think you can see it’s not enough so you need to help him.”

Sherlock had no idea John had wanted to kill himself, and while the getting kidnapped wasn’t what Sherlock wanted for John he was just thankful John was alive, because that was the whole reason he had left, to keep John safe. Sherlock took a deep breath then nodded, keeping his voice even, “I am doing everything I can to help him, Gregory… he… I know you figured out a long time ago I loved him before I myself figured it out and I do Greg. It’s why I left, I needed to keep him safe. Moriarty swore that once I was dead, and I wasn’t so famous he would leave John alone. He shot himself on that roof… and I really believed he was gone. For the first 6 months, I thought he was dead, but then I started hearing whispers from people in Moriarty’s web… I had no idea John had even been taken until 2 days later because Moriarty sent me a video… I went to find him as soon as I could get a plane, Greg. It took me longer then I would have liked… but I found him, I rescued him, Greg. He told me… to go back, to finish what I started. As much as I hated it, he was right, if I would have stayed Moriarty would have been alive and had me in his pocket…”

Greg sighed, almost in relief before grabbing some things to start to clean up. Then he turned to Sherlock and said, “Just… promise me a couple things, Sherlock…”

Sherlock nodded, already knowing what Greg wanted him to say, “Moriarty is dead, I killed him myself, watched him be incinerated myself, and all of his web is dead.”

Greg nodded along with what Sherlock said but opened his mouth “That too, but Sherlock you need to make sure you take care of John… he deserves everything you have, I know you get bored easily and sometimes you forget about other people's needs but… do what you can because he deserves it.”

Sherlock was taken back, he hadn’t expected that to come from Lestrade, sure he should have, he knew they were close and with Lestrade helping John after his faked suicide. “Of course…”

Greg  didn’t say anything else, just turned and grabbed John’s cup, and the kettle, pouring John his tea and making it just the way John liked it before handing it to Sherlock, “Go on, I can clean this up, ain’t the first time.”

Sherlock nodded and carefully took John’s cup out to the living room, being mindful of the broken glass and put John’s cup on John’s table before sitting in his own chair. John was pretending to read his paper but Sherlock could tell he wasn’t actually reading it, his eyes were slightly glazed over and his mind clearly somewhere else. 

Sherlock was slow in his movement as he carefully reached forward and touched John’s knee, John instinctively jerked a little, and he lifted his eyes from the newspaper and tried to force a smile but Sherlock could see right through it, “It’s alright John.”  
John scoffed tiredly and shook his head, “Not it’s not… I mean… for fuck's sake Sherlock I am so tired of feeling like this…”

Sherlock carefully scooted forward in his chair and rubbed John’s knee in a comforting way, “I know John, Have you tried talking to that therapist Mycroft found for you?”

John sighed and looked at Sherlock’s hand on his knee, it was nice and actually felt comforting, “I have tried… but… talking to her… I don’t know…”

Sherlock was slow as he got on his knees in front of John, gently sliding himself between John’s legs. He wanted to give John the opportunity to stop Sherlock if he needed it. Sherlock carefully cupped John’s cheek and then kissed his forehead, and looked into John’s eyes, “John, if you are going to get better you need to talk to someone, I want you to be happier and healthy because you mean… you mean everything to me, John.” 

John closed his eyes a bit and then nodded, he let himself relax some into Sherlock’s touch, it was comforting and soothing.

Sherlock carefully took John’s tea and handed it to him, “Drink John.”

John obliged and took a few sips, then rested his forehead against Sherlock’s, he could feel his body starting to shake a bit. Just as he was about to say something Greg lightly cleared his throat, “Do you want me to stay or would you like me to go and let you two alone.”

John chewed his lip and looked at Greg, “I… I know we normally eat together tonight but…”

Greg waved it off, “S’alright John, call me if you need anything alright?”

John gave a little nod, and watched Greg leave before he looked back at Sherlock, “Can we… can we go for a walk?”

Sherlock nodded, “Of course John, where to?”

John shook his head a bit, “I don’t really care… I just… need… I want to get out of the flat.”


	10. Dinner at Angelo's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock suggests they go eat at Angelo's and John agrees. John insists on walking despite Sherlock's slight concern about his leg. Once they arrive they sit at the same table they sat their first night together. They eat and talk and then when they are walking home have an unexpected interaction with a man and his dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gahhh I finally have this chapter edited. I hope you guys enoy it, I have had the chapter itself ready a couple days but I needed to go back and rewrite it, which only takes me a couple hours but haven't been able to because of certain reasons. ANYWAYS, I am also so sorry that it has taken me so dang long to work on this, I haven't had the desire to work on any of my published fics. I have more on Fanfiction.net that are unfinished and those need worked on as well but I actually wanted to work on this so I finally have. i am going to try to have another chapter in a week or so but don't quote me!! Thank you to those of you who have left comments, the feedback means alot so please keep doing that

Sherlock stood up and carefully held his hand out for John, once John was finally standing up Sherlock gave him a small smile, “What about Angelo’s? Get something to eat?”

  
John gave Sherlock a small nod, “That sounds good, I haven’t been in since your funeral… I walked by a few times but… I couldn’t go in… it hurt too much…”

Sherlock was gentle and slow as he cut off John’s nervous babbling with a small kiss, his hand resting gently on John’s shoulder, “It’s perfectly alright John, I am sure Angelo understood.”

  
John leaned into Sherlock’s affection, it made him slightly on edge though it had nothing to do with his flashbacks. He was on edge because Sherlock was perfect, and being so patient with him and John just wasn’t. John shook away the negative thoughts, he really didn’t want to focus on that right now, he did get a mildly concerned look from Sherlock but he just went to grab his coat, Sherlock then following suit. When Sherlock was about to hail a cab John stopped him and cleared his throat, “Can we walk?”

Sherlock looked at John, he didn’t mind walking but he knew John’s leg bothered him if he walked too long. “Are you sure, What about your leg?”

John swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, “I’ll be fine, I just… I would rather walk.”

Sherlock studied John for a moment, he could clearly see the nervousness in John’s eyes and posture and deduced that being in small confined spaces made him panic more, and even though their flat was also small it clearly had a sense of security for John. Finally, Sherlock nodded, “Okay John”

John let out a small sigh of relief since he had been kidnapped by Moriarty he really hated being in small spaces. He did the best he could to stay out in the open, the only time he was calm enough in a small space was at the flat. It was another reason he was so skinny, between not eating enough and walking everywhere it wasn’t easy to gain weight, though his muscle tone was better now. 

By the time they made it to Angelos his leg was twitching slightly with pain but he was ignoring it as much as he could. Angelo’s was unusually empty for a Saturday evening, but it was a relief for John, he really didn’t want to deal with a bunch of people. 

Sherlock took a deep breath steeling himself for having to see Angelo, between all that had happened in the last three years, he knew Angelo would be excited to see him and it would draw attention to himself and to John and he wasn’t sure how well John would handle it. Sherlock walked through the door first, John was just being him, Angelo was carrying a plate to a table and without looking towards the new patrons he shouted, “Sit anywhere you like, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Sherlock motioned for John to sit at the table by the window, just like their very first night together. Just like the first time John sat with his back to the window so he could watch the room, for the exact same reason, his Post-Traumatic Stress had him on high alert, though this time the PTSD was a different cause. Sherlock turned to sit just in time for Angelo to see him, “Sherlock! Oh my goodness! It is so wonderful to see you, my friend! I knew you were alive, I told everyone! Sherlock Holmes is brilliant enough to pull it off. ANd you brought your boyfriend, it’s good to see you both. What would you like to eat? Anything you like it’s on the house.”

John bit his lip and his hand tightened on the table, seeing Angelo brought up good and bad memories. Sherlock had seen John’s hands tighten on the edge of the table, Angelo, of course, didn’t notice but Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from seeing it. Sherlock cleared his throat and replied, “Surprise us, Angelo,”

Angelo smiled and gave Sherlock a pat on the arm before he turned to leave. Once Angelo was gone Sherlock turned again to John who was still sitting tensely, gripping the table so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Sherlock knew John well enough to know he was better off offering silent comfort then addressing anything out loud, at least in public. Sherlock carefully put his hand on John’s wrist, John flinched but he met Sherlock’s eyes and nodded. Sherlock nodded in return before softly asking, “Alright?”

John forced himself to take a steadying breath, he was slightly regretting getting out but it helped immensely that Sherlock was with him. John finally replied, “Alright.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything more, instead, he idly watched out the window at the people passing by, leaving his hand on John’s. John’s soft voice broke his concentration and his tone was slightly accusing, “You technically lied to me that first night you know.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrow, he knew the conversation John was referring to but he was confused as to how he had technically lied, “I don’t know what you mean.”

John let out a small chuckle, it was slightly strained and forced but he replied, “You told me you were married to your work, thought I was trying to get in your pants, shut me down pretty quick.”

“I do not think I lied in any way, I was under the impression at the time that no one would want me in that way or could care about me and I had to rely on myself,” Sherlock bit his lip after, he hadn’t meant to say all that but it had just come spilling out of his mouth. Sherlock blushed and looked at his glass of water trying to come up with something else to say but no words were coming to mind.

John was shocked but he could tell that Sherlock had shocked himself by saying all he just had and he carefully reached out and wrapped his fingers around Sherlock’s wrist, speaking gently, “I was flirting with you then, you were bloody brilliant and gorgeous, you were slightly mysterious. I wanted to know what you were into.”

Sherlock looked at John then rubbed the back of his neck the nerves clawing into his throat and he didn’t know what to say. Luckily that’s when Angelo came over with their plates, “Here you are boys, please enjoy, if you need anything else to let me know.”

Sherlock nodded absently at Angelo, “Of course Angelo, thank you.”

Angelo was pleased with Sherlock’s use of manners, and John was a bit in shock. Sherlock rarely said please or thank you unless he really thought it was necessary. John took a deep breath before swallowing around the lump of nerves suddenly in his throat again and started eating the Lasagna Angelo had given him. John was focused on the taste of the lasagna until he suddenly remembered that Angelo had brought over a pan of lasagna for him after Sherlock’s faked suicide and the few bites he had taken were sitting like rocks in his stomach. John remembered when Angelo had brought it over, he had given John a long hug and told John to make sure to eat, but John hadn’t eaten. He vaguely remembers Mrs. Hudson fussing at him about it because it had grown moldy and she had thrown it out.

John’s eyes had gone flossy and Sherlock could see John’s breathing change again. Sherlock was gentle as he wrapped his fingers around John’s wrist. It took a little longer then it had earlier. John looked up at him, swallowed thickly and he went back to trying to eat. Sherlock could see John was taking much smaller bites now and he was clearly forcing himself to keep eating. As he watched John he deduced that Angelo must have brought him a pan of lasagna after his faked suicide and that alone brought negative memories. John was clearly shaking now and he was clinging to Sherlock’s hand on his wrist, he could feel John’s pulse racing and he moved closer to John, and intertwined his fingers with John’s hand that was holding the fork after putting the fork aside. “John, focus on my voice love, I am right here, take a deep breath for me, John.”  
 

John listened to Sherlock’s instructions, after taking a few more he felt a bit calmer. John could feel the burning sensation as tears welled up in his eyes but he would not let them fall, he refused to start crying again. John took another deep breath before whispering, “I just… I am so tired of this…”

Sherlock nodded some as he rubbed a small circle over John’s pulse point with his thumb, “I know love, but if we work together and you talk to someone it can get better. I know it won’t completely go away but it can help.”

John closed his eyes and took another deep breath before opening them again. Sherlock was eating something other than lasagna, it looked like shrimp scampi, a part of John wanted to try what Sherlock had but he wasn’t sure how to ask Sherlock. Sherlock being Sherlock knew what John wanted and carefully pushed his plate towards John. John took a forkful into his mouth and was delighted at the taste. Angelo was an amazing chef. “It’s very good.”

Sherlock gave John a small smile before nodding, “Eat some more if you like, I will eat yours.”

John looked at Sherlock unsure, Sherlock didn’t like lasagna very much. He was a picky eater sometimes and he knew Sherlock didn’t really like marinara sauce. Before John could argue Sherlock reached out and took John’s plate and he started eating. 

Sherlock was pleased to see John eat all of what was on the plate, he had a feeling if he hadn’t switched plates, John would not have eaten as much. After they had finished eating John looked up at Sherlock, “Thank you, Sherlock."

Sherlock hummed gently, “Do you want to walk more or should we go home?

John didn’t need to think, he really just wanted to be home. “Can we walk home?”

Sherlock nodded and then he stood, he didn’t use to wait for John but he waited for John to get up from the booth and followed him, giving a small nod and wave to Angelo as he left.

Once they were on the street again Sherlock reached out and he interlaced his fingers with John’s. Sherlock knew John was not huge on public displays of affection but he knew they both needed the silent reassurance that they were together once again.

As they walked a man and his dog was behind them, and John was fighting the urge to slow down and let the man pass them because having people walking behind him made him on edge. As his nerves and anxiety got worse the dog pushed his head into John’s free hand wanting John to pet it. John looked down and noticed that the dog was actually a service dog and he turned towards the dog's owner, “Sorry he… he doesn’t usually do that it… its what he does for me when I am having a panic attack…”

John bit his lip and nodded, he didn’t need Sherlock’s brain to deduce the man had PTSD, “You have PTSD”

The man nodded, ‘Yes sir after Afghanistan I was a real mess, got him through a program. He ain’t ever alerted on a stranger before it… I apologize.”

John shook his head a bit and he carefully pet the dog, he felt himself calm a little and the dog wagged his tail before moving back to his owner's side and refocusing. The man took a shaky breath and then spoke, “I don’t mean to overstep or nuffing but… maybe you should look into getting one. Harley saved me life.”

John opened his mouth to say something before he could the man and his dog were gone. John bit his lip before he turned and found Sherlock staring at him. John didn't say anything and just went back to walking his pace a little faster then it had been a moment ago. Sherlock easily caught up to John and he nearly grabbed John’s wrist but he stopped himself and spoke, “John…”

John’s steps hesitated but he forced himself to keep walking, “What Sherlock?”

Sherlock carefully linked his hand with John’s again before speaking gently, “If it is something you want to look into it is something we can do love.”

John bit his lip and shook his head as he walked, “We don’t have space in the flat, it’s fine. Plus I am not going to make you deal with me like this… and a dog.”

Sherlock sighed and pulled John off the main street onto an empty sidewalk and made John face him, one hand cupped John’s cheek tilting his head so Sherlock could meet John’s eyes. “John I want you to be better, I will do anything I can to help you, and if getting a service dog is something that could help you then I will talk to Mycroft about getting some information.

John was torn between wanting to lash out at Sherlock and hugging him. After taking a deep breath John wrapped himself around Sherlock, hugging him and saying, “You… you don’t need to get that information Mycroft… gave it to me already.”

Sherlock held John for a moment and stroked a hand through John's hair before leaning down and kissing John’s temple, “Alright come on, I know you are exhausted you need rest.”

As if on cue John yawned, then he nodded a bit, his exhaustion suddenly hitting him when Sherlock forced him to acknowledge it, “Yeah…”

Once they were back at Baker Street Sherlock changed to his pajamas and guided John to his bed. John curled up with his pillow and was quickly fast asleep. Sherlock watched John for a few quiet moments before going to the living room and pulling his Strad out. 

Sherlock closed his eyes, took a deep breath and relaxed into his music, though he was also listening to any noises in case John had a nightmare. Sherlock slipped into his mind palace because frankly he was a bit overwhelmed with the amount of information he had gotten today and he needed to organize his thoughts. A big part of him wanted to lay in his bed with John and curl around him but he needed to process everything. 


	11. Nightmares, Landladies, and... Service Dogs?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a nightmare after Sherlock puts away his violin, and Sherlock comforts him. Then in the morning Mrs. Hudson finds out Sherlock is alive, after a bit of yelling, she hugs her boys and leaves. Then they talk about getting a dog.

John slept soundly through the night, the first time in months really. Until 4 in the morning when Sherlock's exhaustion was too overwhelming and he finally put his Strad away. After careful consideration, Sherlock decided it might be better to sleep on the couch so he stripped down to his shirt and boxers, then fell unceremoniously on the couch.

  
Sherlock was nearly pulled into the darkness of sleep until he heard a very faint whimper coming from his bedroom. Sherlock’s eyes snapped open and he was instantly sitting up, but he waited to move, in case John had just readjusted. After a few seconds though there was an even louder whimper, now Sherlock was on his feet and going towards his room.

  
When he opened the door, John was tossing and turning in his bed, fighting whimpers that were clawing their way out of his throat, as if still trying to stay quiet so he wouldn’t disturb anyone. Sherlock also noticed John was clinging desperately to the pillow Sherlock had used earlier.

  
Sherlock turned the lamp on and kneeled onto his bed, hovering above John trying to give him space but also trying to comfort him as he carefully started running his fingers through John’s short hair, also scraping his fingers on the back of John’s neck trying to calm him. “Shhh John, I’m right here... “

  
Sherlock had been expecting John to react violently and to fight against him, however, John instantly wrapped himself around Sherlock dragging the man down and whimpered into his side. Sherlock was shocked at first but he carefully went back to stroking John’s hair, “Shhh I’ve got you, John, I’ve got you…”

  
John tightened his arms around Sherlock as he struggled to fight through the nightmare. A realization hit Sherlock and he carefully grabbed his phone from where he had set it earlier after getting John into bed and turned on a recording of him playing. John whimpered some and he was still tense for a few minutes but soon he was peacefully asleep. Sherlock decided at that moment, watching John calm just because of his music, that he wanted to record himself with better equipment and put it on a CD so they could listen to it while they slept. Sherlock liked sleeping in silence but just seeing how much calmer John was with the music he could get used to it for John.

  
Once John was completely calm again, he took a minute to make sure the song would repeat, then he moved so he was actually laying down. John was still attached to Sherlock like an octopus but Sherlock couldn’t find it in himself to care.

  
Sherlock took a deep breath and closed his eyes, with his music playing he thought about the times he would hear John having nightmares upstairs, just after John moved in. Sherlock had never breached John’s privacy and gone up the stairs but he had heard John almost every night. Sherlock had been able to hear when John would calm down, some nights he knew when John woke up because he could hear him moving about, and occasionally John would come down to get a glass of water.

  
One night Sherlock had been playing and John had come downstairs to get water, Sherlock heard him come down the stairs, heard him moving about in the kitchen but he never turned from where he was looking out the window. However Sherlock had felt John’s eyes on him, boring holes into his chest, it had nearly made Sherlock stop playing then, Sherlock had wanted to stop and turn to John and admit how he really felt, but as quickly as the moment had started it was over as John had gone back up the stairs.

  
Sherlock wondered what things would have been like if he had, what if he had turned away from the window and told John how he felt, would everything still have happened the way it did. Would Sherlock has taken John with him when he faked his suicide? Eventually, exhaustion overwhelmed Sherlock again and he was fast asleep.

  
John woke up later in the morning, John hadn’t even opened his eyes yet but he was definitely awake. That was until he realized he could hear Sherlock’s violin playing, but he was also wrapped around someone. John slowly opened his eyes and was met with Sherlock’s clothed chest and slowly looked up and saw Sherlock, who was dead asleep.

  
John’s lip quirked up in a small smile, he closed his eyes again as his chest ached, John had missed Sherlock so much and having him back, just having Sherlock alive was something John wasn’t sure he would get, let alone what they had now.

  
John was careful as he moved out of Sherlock’s arms, Sherlock protested some by trying to stop John and making a small noise of upset but John knew Sherlock well enough to know Sherlock was so deeply asleep he wouldn’t be waking for a few more hours.

  
John still moved slow and quiet as he could as he went to the kitchen. John felt more rested then he had since Sherlock’s faked suicide. John was vaguely aware he had a nightmare, he didn’t even remember it. John started a cup of coffee and stood in the kitchen kind of spacing out. Until he realized the music was still playing, John checked on the coffee before going back to Sherlock’s room.

  
John was as silent as he could be as he watched Sherlock sleeping, and then he focused on the music playing. Something told him it was definitely Sherlock playing, there was just a difference in the music when Sherlock played. The piece Sherlock was playing, was not something John remembered hearing Sherlock playing before. John closed his eyes and listened to the music, there was definitely something sad about but as it got towards the ending it got happier and it made John feel warmer inside.

  
John smiled before going back to the kitchen, his coffee finished just as he walked in the room. John grabbed his mug, made it the way he liked it before taking a slow sip, his eyes falling closed as the warmth filled his chest more. John moved slowly to the window that overlooked Baker Street and he watched the people slowly mulling about.

  
Sherlock let out a soft groan as he was pulled into awareness, his body felt heavy with sleep, and he really didn’t want to wake up just yet. Sherlock reached out to pull John closer to him, but his fingers were met with cold sheets, making him open his eyes. As Sherlock figured John was no longer in bed, he reached out to grab his phone and shut off his music, also seeing the time was half past 11 in the morning.

  
Sherlock groaned again as he slowly sat up, and carefully got out of bed, pulling his robe on before walking to the living room. John was still standing by the window, holding a cup that was now empty. Sherlock moved and could see John’s eyes were glazed over but he showed no signs of having a flashback. Sherlock carefully cleared his throat, “John…”

  
John blinked a few times before looking over at Sherlock, his lips turning up some at the corners, “Morning”

  
Sherlock crossed the space they had between them before slowly cupping John’s face, giving him a light kiss on the forehead, “Morning.”

  
John hummed softly, relaxing into Sherlock’s touch, part of him was waiting for the ugly side of his PTSD to drop but he wants to let himself relax and give into the serene feeling he currently had.

  
Sherlock carefully stroked his fingers along the nape of John’s neck, he could read John’s body language, he knew how to read him mostly, he knew how relaxed John felt and he wanted to help it if he could. Sherlock’s voice was soft, “What would you like to do today?”

  
Before John could even open his mouth Mrs. Hudson’s voice shocked them both, “Sherlock?”

  
Sherlock turned suddenly pulling away from John to look at her, he felt awful, this wasn’t how he wanted to tell the woman. Sherlock bit his lip and gave her a small smile, “Um… hello.”

  
John felt bad for Mrs. Hudson, she had been just as torn up about Sherlock’s death as he had, though she dealt with it much better, not to mention what John put her through after. They looked on as tears welled up in the woman’s eyes and she shook them away, fire suddenly burning in her eyes, “Do you have any bloody idea what you did to him? What you did to all of us?”

Sherlock took a deep breath stepping closer to her, “It was necessary…”

  
Sherlock should have expected it when she slapped him but he was too focused on trying to comfort her, “Nothing can excuse what you put that man through Sherlock! You left him, and we had to try to pick up the damned pieces!”

  
Sherlock cupped his stinging cheek and closed his eyes tightly against the tears the sprung to his eyes and he nodded before looking at her, “Thank you… thank you for taking care of him…”

  
All the anger washed away at that moment and she let out a heavy sigh before hugging him, “You are so stupid sometimes,”

  
Sherlock nodded trying to keep the tears from falling, “I know…”

  
Another sigh fell from her lips before she kissed his cheek before she pulled away to look at John, “I hope this means you are going to try to actually get better now.”

  
John swallowed thickly before nodding, “Promise.”

  
Mrs. Hudson smiled before she moved past Sherlock and gave John a small hug and looked between the two men, “I love you boys, like my own children.”

  
John and Sherlock replied at the same time, “We love you too”.

  
Mrs. Hudson smiled then she pointed to the bag of groceries she had brought up for John, but she looked at Sherlock, “Make sure he eats enough, you to though. You both are practically skin and bones.” Before either man could reply she was heading back down the stairs.

  
Sherlock took a deep breath before looking at John who clearly had tears welling up in his eyes and cupped John’s cheek, “Are you alright?”

  
John sniffled a bit and then wiped at his eyes, “Yeah…. Yeah just… sorry… got a bit… well overwhelmed”

  
Sherlock hummed softly, he wanted to bring up the idea of a service dog again, he had wanted to talk about it more last night but John was too tired when the got back. “S’ Alright John… there is one thing we should talk about though”

  
John may not have been as good at deductions as Sherlock but he knew Sherlock well enough to know what Sherlock wanted to talk about, “The information is in my desk… if you want to look it over with me.”

  
Sherlock bit his lip as he felt nervous, “Am I that obvious?”

  
John smiled some before he went to his desk to grab the papers with all the information Sherlock wanted, “Only to me, well and maybe your brother.”

  
John hesitantly handed Sherlock the papers, he had been holding onto since he had gotten out of the hospital. “I looked up a few of the breeders and training things…. I am not nearly as good at research as you are but… well, I don’t really want a small dog but… I read one of the best dogs is a Great Dane but… with the flat… there is also a German Shepard”

  
Sherlock carefully wrapped his fingers around John’s wrist and rubbed small circles over his pulse point with his thumb. John was rambling because he was nervous about how Sherlock would react to the idea of such a large dog, “John…”

  
John stopped his rambling and met Sherlock’s eyes, they were filled with warmth, compassion, and love, which was definitely not something John was used to seeing, at least not so much in the old Sherlock. John silently wondered if it had been there all along and he just hadn’t paid enough attention to it. John shook his head a little to make himself focus and softly whispered,l “Sorry…”

  
Sherlock shook his head and cupped John’s cheek again, “You have nothing to be sorry for John, listen to me for a mo’ I want you to recover, and if they suggest a Great Dane then we will figure it out. We can talk to Mycroft, we can try to find someplace bigger if you’d like, but all that really matters to me John, is that I am doing everything in my ability to help you recover.”

  
John closed his eyes against the tears and wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock, “God I love you…”

  
Sherlock smiled some, before wrapping his arms around John before kissing his head, “I love you too John.”

  
That day was spent looking for hours at different websites, between the best place to get a service dog and the best kind of dog. Like John said, if you didn’t want a small dog, the best was actually a Great Dane, because even tho they were such large dogs, they were very attentive and best at calming people down. By nightfall, they had an appointment the following day to meet with a woman Mycroft sent them, who bred and trained Great Dane service dogs, specifically for PTSD victims. 


End file.
